


sing, sing, sing

by kalopsia (girltalk)



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Awkward Crush, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5482526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girltalk/pseuds/kalopsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fake dating his duet partner for audition show “Birth of a K-pop Star K3” may not be the easiest way to forge chemistry, but let it not be said that Koo Junhwe is anything but determined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sing, sing, sing

**Author's Note:**

> thanks a billion to [naladot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Naladot/pseuds/Naladot) for reading this through, giving me the good ideas, and being the only reason i managed to finish, all this while not even knowing all of ikon's names. 
> 
> disclaimer: all ages are korean (so + 1). also PLEASE SUSPEND YOUR BELIEF ABOUT EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE AND ALL THE THINGS YOU EVER THOUGHT YOU KNEW, thank you. if you can guess from the title, i had [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2S1I_ien6A) on loop the entire time i was writing this, so you know it's ridiculous and might as well be crack.
> 
> crossposted on lj [here](http://kalopsia.livejournal.com/13930.html)

Donghyuk attributes many factors to Junhwe’s tendency to bring stifling awkwardness wherever he goes. In fact, he’d very precisely summarised them into a list, one that he’d pushed into Junhwe’s hand and told him to analyze in preparation for the audition. Junhwe had done no such thing and threw it into the trash after the first skim; but from memory he recalls:

1\. You try too hard to please people. 

2\. While simultaneously thinking they’re less than you. 

3\. Your one track pipe dream has rendered you completely useless when it comes to dealing with complex human beings. 

4\. The thought of confronting emotions frightens you.

5\. Do you remember the time in grade school where everyone was obsessed with those plastic robots that came in those KFC Kids Packs? My one was bigger than yours and you spent the entire day talking shit about it until I cried and then when I came back you had stolen it and pretended you didn’t know where it went? Think about it a little Junhwe. Think about it. 

Unfortunately, none of those reasons are why Koo Junhwe, audition number 567, soon-to-be-superstar at the age of 18, is completely fucked when audition number 565 turns to him — looking small and adorable in a too-big jacket he’d probably borrowed from his Hot College Boyfriend. He smiles at Junhwe with plush lips and then says, “Hey, are you auditioning too? I’m Kim Jinhwan, want to run through some vocal exercises together?”

 

 

Junhwe has never seen Fatal Attraction, but he has to wonder if the movie has anything to do with an unassuming teenage boy being seduced by a three years older College freshman and subsequently jeopardizing his chances at getting through “Birth of a K-pop Star K3” with his dignity intact. Donghyuk says it doesn’t— _‘but you know what’_ , Junhwe texts back, _‘maybe it should’_. 

It’s a little pathetic because Jinhwan doesn’t even talk to him all that much. It's only half on purpose and Junhwe can't really blame him. The first time Jinhwan had attempted to be cordial during the audition, Junhwe had grunted in response. Grunted. Like a fucking caveman. _Me. Koo Junhwe. You. Cute. Be wife? Know fire?_ Frankly, he wishes Jinhwan had just given up then, because Junhwe hadn't met any of his many successive attempts with much success either. All interaction thus far can be summarised as such:

 **Jinhwan:** Hey Junhwe, do you want to respond to my attempts at being friendly like a normal person who doesn’t want to suck my lower lip every time I talk?  
**Junhwe:** I just want to win.  
**Jinhwan:** That’s nice. I’m really trying here, by the way. Do you want to start being cooperative and stop making it so obvious you want to fuck me?  
**Junhwe:** Uhh…  
**Jinhwan:**  
**Junhwe:**  
**Jinhwan:**  
**Junhwe:** I’m going to go.

When he trudges downstairs at 5:30AM, he finds Jinhwan sitting on the stool, a clean bowl in front of him, sucking a spoon. Junhwe pinches himself just to make sure he isn’t dreaming again. He does it a little too hard because he yelps and Jinhwan startles like a meerkat before his eyes land on Junhwe and he relaxes. 

“Hey,” he says, waving him over. 

Junhwe is a walking mess of a cliche, so he does that thing where he turns around to look for other people, even though he _very well knows_ it’s only the two of them down here. Jinhwan is gracious though, and he let's Junhwe take his time collecting himself and padding over to him. 

Junhwe clears his throat. "You're up early." 

Jinhwan nods, dropping his spoon into the cereal bowl. “Yeah I wanted to get some early practice in, I’m really nervous.”

“Oh,” Junhwe replies, and then “do you need any help?” 

On one hand, Junhwe wants to hi five himself because _hey_ , that was a whole sentence just uttered in Jinhwan’s presence. On the other hand, Junhwe just woke up early so he could eat the nice cereal before it finished, he definitely didn’t plan to stay up longer than thirty minutes. Does he really trust himself to be around Jinhwan when his awareness is about as sharp as an eraser. 

_Please say no._

“Yeah sure!” Jinhwan accepts, looking pleasantly surprised. He smiles at Junhwe, and it’s a nice smile. A sweet smile. A smile Junhwe doesn’t need to think about. 

 

 

Thus far Junhwe's attraction to Jinhwan had been firmly rooted in the fact he was tiny, and cute, and just all around Junhwe's type — and Junhwe's type happens to be care bear (even though he tells his friends that it's Park Hanbyul in a dominatrix suit holding a whip). Junhwe doesn't think about care bears in a sexual manner, except for that one time he was fourteen— but whatever. That doesn't count and only God can judge him. He does think of Jinhwan in a sexual manner. But it's muted. A side effect of his otherwise innocent and well-meaning attraction that he can't help. 

Of course, all this was before he saw Jinhwan dance.

It starts off innocuously enough. Jinhwan asks Junhwe to help him with his stretches. It's awkward and silent as Jinhwan has a foot over Junhwe's shoulder, leaning forward to loosen his hamstring. Junhwe tries not to be perverted, it's a basic stretch after all, he's done it plenty of times in gym. But just as a precaution he starts jogging up old memories of hosting his grandmother's 87th pool party. 

The stretches go on for another fifteen minutes — which somehow feels both too long and too short — and then Junhwe has Jinhwan's iPod dock in his lap and presses play,

It's a mistake. Everything leading up to this point in his life was a mistake. 

Jinhwan is a better dancer than he's a singer, which Junhwe should have guessed. He isn't sure he's at a place where he can fairly evaluate Jinhwan's dance skills though, because all standards of objectivity were thrown out the window the minute Jinhwan bit his lip and stripped off his coat. Junhwe should have seen this coming, it's the middle of summer, why else would Jinhwan wear a coat in the practice room. 

Jinhwan does a well timed hip thrust then, and Junhwe almost chokes on his tongue and falls off his chair. 

Junhwe opens his eyes just as the music finishes. Jinhwan is reaching over him to grab the towel hanging on the back of the chair, his flushed pink neck an inch or so away from Junhwe's mouth for three glorious seconds. Jinhwan wraps the towel around his neck after he's done soaking up the sweat, and Junhwe mourns. 

"So,” Jinhwan says. “What did you think?"

Junhwe opens his mouth, which has always been his first mistake. "I'm not sure I was old enough to watch that."

The only reason Junhwe isn't going completely red is because Jinhwan does it for him, and Junhwe is so mortified he's evaporated into nothing and isn't even in the same physical state anymore. 

"The judges are like forty though," Junhwe begins. _Shut up_ , he screams at his brain, _shut up_. "They'll probably like it."

"Because they're forty?" Jinhwan says warily. His hands are fidgeting with the loose strings of the towel, but he looks at Junhwe dead-on, like a challenge. Care bear in a dominatrix suit, is the most appropriate simile Junhwe can think to give. And on that train of thought:

"I'm going to go," Junhwe says. He stands up abruptly and Jinhwan's iPod and speaker set fall onto the floor. "Fuck, I'll buy you a— I'm going to go," he says again, grabbing his bag and power walking out the door. 

 

 

In between the final 12 and top 8, it’s safe to say the relationship between Junhwe and Jinhwan could not get anymore awkward. Jinhwan definitely doesn't think about it as much as Junhwe does, considering he's the favourite dongsaeng to all the remaining older contestants, and the favourite Hyung/Oppa to all the younger ones. He's probably not even aware of Junhwe's existence often enough for the tension between them to be anymore than short, static bursts of weirdness he has to endure whenever they accidentally make eye contact through the monitor or something. 

Junhwe however, isn't as lucky or as favoured. He's not a loner or anything, despite Donghyuk, his mother, and most of his friends and family's greatest fears. After he defecated all over his first, second, and nth impressions with Jinhwan, he'd made an effort to strike up a good camaraderie with the rest of the contestants. Still, it doesn't matter how engaged he is during a conversation, how focused he is when he practices, he's always acutely aware of Jinhwan's presence and it trips him up more than he'd like it to. 

He calls Donghyuk into the beginning of their third week. He picks up on the third ring with an annoyed _”What?”_ , which _rude_. 

"I'm sending you a picture of me smoking at our last school camp," Junhwe says, "I want you to post them on pann."

_"What?"_

"Also I found a photoshop tutorial on how to create a realistic bruise, I'm sending you a link to that too," Junhwe says, highlighting the url in the address bar.

"Back up, what are you talking about? Why would I do this?"

"You need to get me out of here," Junhwe hisses into the phone, looking around to make sure no one was listening in, "I can't do this anymore, I'm going to die." 

"Junhwe you're being overdramatic," Donghyuk says. Junhwe ignores him and keeps scrolling through his pictures. "Also what will smearing your reputation do?" 

"I'm too popular," Junhwe whines, narrowing his eyes at the snort Donghyuk sends through the line. "I'm not going to be voted off any time soon, you need to turn public opinion against me. Also I'm sending you two private selcas, attach whichever one you think is nicer to the post." 

"This is ridiculous you can't— gross, why did I click that, I never want to see your smolder."

"Donghyuk!" Junhwe snaps. "Be professional please." 

"Listen, you need to _relax_ ," Donghyuk emphasises. "I'm not doubting the fact you're probably making a total idiot of yourself—" Junhwe makes a noise of protest, "—but it's nothing in the grand scheme of things, alright. Just focus on yourself. You don't have to think about Jinhwan if you don't want to. Calm down." 

As loathe as Junhwe is to admit it, Donghyuk carries a good point. After being turned down last year, he isn't about to waste his good blessing this time around over an awkward attraction that's spiralling a little out of control. 

"You're right," Junhwe admits. "This is all just self-inflicted. I'm over thinking things." 

Donghyuk hums his approval. "Trust me," he says. "You'll be fine." 

 

 

"Koo Junhwe and Kim Jinhwan," Boa announces, flourishing the two slips of paper in the air. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Junhwe groans, burying his face into his hands. He says it too loudly and Jinhwan turns around to shoot him an unimpressed look — which _'You've got to be kidding me,'_ Junhwe repeats again in his head. 

"These are your duet partners, everyone! Remember to look surprised when we repeat it on broadcast." Boa claps her hand, dismissing the rehearsal. 

Junhwe is still bemoaning the state of his life when everyone else is gravitating towards their partners, so he doesn't realise Jinhwan is in front of him until he hears a small _'ahem'_. Junhwe doesn't want to look up. Wants to keep denying reality as long as possible. But he's seen the version of Jinhwan who thinks he's being played with, and he doesn't want to face that wrath. 

"Hey hyung," he says, leaning back in his seat. He tries to aim for casual and puts an elbow up to rest on the chair next to him, but he misses and almost ends up falling sideways. 

Jinhwan smiles friendly, but looks blatantly uncomfortable — and why wouldn't he? At least Junhwe has his helpless attraction to help cushion (or well, really, worsen) the awkwardness. Jinhwan has nothing except for maybe his inherent good nature. 

"Hi,” Jinhwan says, “so… I’m excited to work with you.”

Junhwe blinks. “Really?” 

Jinhwan lips quirk up. “Yes, really. I think you have a great voice.”

Junhwe has to try hard not to beam at the praise. By Jinhwan’s grin he figures he’s failed.

 

 

The problem makes itself apparent ten minutes into their first practice session. Well really, the problem made itself apparent during the first audition. Or maybe the problem made itself apparent on a cold morning, March 31st, in Seoul National University Hospital. 

The problem being: Junhwe and Jinhwan look awkward as fuck. 

Junhwe supposes it could have been worse. Considering their song choice — “Gone, Not Around Any Longer” — they could have kept the original arrangement and choreography, and then on top of being awkward, Junhwe wouldn’t even be able to look at Jinhwan during half of the routine. With their new acoustic arrangement, Junhwe can at least hold eye-contact. Sort of. He’s meant to be gazing at Jinhwan, completely and irrevocably heartbroken, but when watching the video recording it looks more like he wants to kill him. 

“We don’t have any chemistry,” Jinhwan observes. 

“I wonder why,” Junhwe mumbles under his breath. “I think we should change the song.”

Jinhwan shakes his head. “I don’t think that’ll get to the root of the problem.” He replays the video, like it wasn’t completely embarrassing and painful the first time around. “We need to work on our body language. We both look too robotic and like we don’t want to be here.”

The last bit isn’t completely off the mark, but Junhwe doesn’t tell Jinhwan that in case he gets the wrong idea. Although, the wrong idea is probably a lot less mortifying than the right idea. “Okay,” Junhwe agrees. “Let’s try that.”

They try singing the song again, this time Junhwe is hyper-aware of where he is in relation to Jinhwan, and repeats the mantra of _relax relax relax_ in his head. When he can feel his face tensing up while singing _’I wanted to tell you I love you’_ , he checks himself and tries to look as vulnerable and anguished as possible instead. People widen their eyes when they’re vulnerable right? What’s he meant to do with his eyebrows? 

“This is worse than the one before,” Junhwe marvels. Jinhwan doesn’t say anything, but from the sour look on his face it’s clear he shares the sentiment. 

“It’s just…” Jinhwan pauses the video on a very unflattering shot of Junhwe in the middle of singing a high note, “We need to make it look natural, like we’re actually breaking up. Maybe we should put in some skinship right before the climax?” Jinhwan reaches out and takes Junhwe’s hands in his own to demonstrate, and Junhwe registers three very important things in less than five seconds:

1\. Jinhwan’s hands are tiny. Which in itself isn’t really news. What is news though — like front page, website splash, trending topic on twitter news — is how small his hands are in relation to Junhwe’s. Not in a way where it looks mismatched either, but just the perfect size where Junhwe’s bear hands don’t look overwhelming, but reassuring and protective.

2\. Junhwe expected Jinhwan’s hands to be as soft as the rest of him, but they’re actually fairly calloused. Jinhwan's talked about growing up in Jeju during one of his pre-performance interviews, and off-handedly mentioned helping his mom around her cafe in his spare time. Meaning he probably spent a lot of time doing heavy lifting or fooling around outdoors. There’s a wealth of experience in his hands.

3\. He'll have to get back to you on the third thing.

"Junhwe?" Jinhwan asks. "You okay?"

Junhwe snaps his eyes up and away from their intertwined hands. "Sorry?" 

Unfortunately Jinhwan is attentive and doesn’t miss it. "Does holding my hand make you uncomfortable?" Jinhwan asks, cocking his head to the side.

Junhwe opens his mouth to deny it, but Jinhwan suddenly has an intensely contemplative look on his face, which is equal halves promising and terrifying.

"I think we need to get ourselves used to each other in a more intimate setting," Jinhwan muses, more to himself than Junhwe who's trying very hard to suppress a weak whine, "We can't sell the audience on a devastating breakup if we don't feel it ourselves. So how about this, from now on, we practice while holding hands?" He looks up at Junhwe for his input.

"I- _what?_ " Junhwe provides.

"If it makes it easier for you, instead of thinking about breaking up with me, or holding hands with me, try thinking about your last relationship instead." Jinhwan continues. “Then when we’re on stage you’ll end up associating me and the song with the break up.”

Objectively it makes sense. Subjectively, Junhwe is reeling a little bit. For one, the plan is already flawed considering Junhwe’s last and only relationship was in middle school, with a girl who sat behind him in class, and it lasted for approximately three days. He broke up with her because he wasn’t ready for the commitment of holding someone’s books on the way to class, and she had upturned her entire lunch onto Junhwe’s head when he finally dumped her. It definitely wasn’t fun — but it was a waste of perfectly good kimbap, which was pretty heartbreaking, so maybe Jinhwan’s plan will work. 

Still, does that mean while they’re holding hands and practicing, Jinhwan will be thinking of someone else entirely? Junhwe isn’t completely sure how he feels about that. 

He doesn’t have time to figure out how he feels about it either because Jinhwan cuts through his thoughts. “Have you never been in a relationship before?” he asks, a little incredulously.

Junhwe bristles. “I have!” he replies. Technically he’s being honest, so he doesn’t know why Jinhwan has to look at him so disbelievingly and shake his head. 

"No, no! There's nothing wrong with it!" Jinhwan assures. "I'm just a little surprised that's all.”

“There’s no need to be surprised,” Junhwe insists. “I have been in a relationship before.”

“Really?” Jinhwan asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Junhwe is a _terrible_ liar. He’s not sure why it should matter now, since he isn’t _lying_ , but it does because he can feel his cheeks heating up and his fingers twitch from in between Jinhwan’s own.

“It’s fine, you’re still young,” Jinhwan says, leaning forward and patting Junhwe’s knee with his unoccupied hand. “I didn’t have my first relationship until I was a little younger than you anyway…” he trails off, makes a small ‘o’ with his mouth and looks straight at Junhwe.

"What?" Junhwe asks warily, inching away as far as possible without having to compromise the hand holding.

Jinhwan grins at him, and squeezes Junhwe's hand tighter, pushing all of Junhwe's blood to his cheeks. "Koo Junhwe," he enunciates, leaning towards him, "will you go out with me?"

 

 

Jinhwan's brilliant plan is to spend the week up to their performance pretending to date, so that on the actual live stage instead of having to badly act their way through a fake break up, they can badly act their way through a real break up. They spend the rest of the day’s practice session focusing on singing, Jinhwan's hand tightly gripping Junhwe's the whole way through. Afterwards, Jinhwan walks Junhwe back to his room, and for a second Junhwe thinks Jinhwan’s about to kiss him goodbye. Instead he smiles up at Junhwe and whispers _”thanks for the date”_ before walking away. 

The first thing Junhwe does when he’s alone is call Donghyuk in a frenzy.

“Junhwe,” Donghyuk answers, groggy and annoyed. “I thought they confiscated your phone why are you—”

“I stole mine back,” Junhwe interrupts. “Listen I—”

“You _stole_ your phone back?” Donghyuk says, and there’s the sound of blankets ruffling. “Isn’t that a breach of contract? Oh my God, what if they get the police involved?”

“Donghyuk.”

“Is this why you’re calling me? Are the production company going to call me up in court. Can something like this go on your permanent record? Can something like this go on _my_ permanent record?”

“What? Who the—”

“Oh God. I can’t lie Junhwe.” Donghyuk’s voice increases in pitch, and Junhwe moves the phone away from his ear. “I need to get into SNU, I’m sorry but perjury is—”

“ _Donghyuk_ ,” Junhwe yells, quickly looking around to make sure he hadn’t woken up his roommates. “Would you calm down. It’s not about that, no one gives a fuck.”

“Oh,” Donghyuk says. “Well why didn’t you just say so. Okay, I’m calm. What’s the problem?”

“It’s not a problem exactly, it’s just...” Junhwe cups his hand around the receiver before whispering, “It’s _Jinhwan_.”

“My advice hasn’t changed since the last time,” Donghyuk says, sounding bored. “Just suppress it Junhwe. Suppress it like you do everything else.”

“I can’t,” Junhwe groans. “We’re duet partners for next week’s broadcast, I virtually can’t avoid him.”

“Are you?” Donghyuk perks up. “This is good!” Junhwe snorts. “No I’m serious! Look at it this way, either you guys manage to work together and you learn how to function like a human being. _Or_ it’s a total trainwreck and the experience is so traumatising that you get over Jinhwan completely. Either way, exposure therapy is always the most effective technique to overcoming anything.”

Junhwe squints up at the ceiling. Oddly enough, nothing Donghyuk’s saying is making him feel any better. “What about we hit it off and end up becoming friends? That could happen right?”

“Uh...” Donghyuk hesitates. “That. I mean. It’s not impossible in theory.” 

 

 

It turns out Jinhwan is super serious about the whole dating thing. Junhwe figured the extent of it would be hand holding and maybe Jinhwan buying Junhwe a free dinner or two, but not only two minutes into breakfast does he learn how mistaken he actually is. 

They don’t talk for most of breakfast, both of them too sleepy to sustain conversation. But then Junhwe feels a kick against his foot under the table. He jolts and looks up, but Jinhwan’s looking down at the iPad in front of him, fingers swiping across the screen absently. Junhwe clenches his fist under the table, wills himself to calm down. There’s no way he’s going to get through the week if he breaks out into a cold sweat every time Jinhwan so much as accidentally brushes hands with him. 

Jinhwan’s foot bumps into Junhwe’s again, except this time it stays there. And Junhwe knows he’s not the best person with touch in general, but projection only goes so far and Jinhwan’s foot is definitely sliding up Junhwe’s leg, cold toes skimming along the back of his calf. Junhwe steals a glance at Jinhwan, who’s casually spreading jam onto his toast.

Whatever game Jinhwan’s playing isn’t fair. Junhwe doesn’t even know the rules, and he’s hobbling on crutches, what kind of competition is that? Meanwhile, Jinhwan’s a veteran with two good legs— two _really_ good legs. One of which is busy as it guides Jinhwan’s foot higher, toes curling into the soft material covering Junhwe’s thigh— 

“Whoa!” Junhwe pushes himself away from the counter. He almost goes toppling off his seat, but manages to stand up at the last minute right before his stool goes falling to the floor. There’s a loud noise and Jinhwan winces. 

“I’m sorry,” Jinhwan says quickly, running to Junhwe’s side. “I’m so so sorry, I was just fooling around.”

“It’s okay,” Junhwe croaks, mouth dry. “It’s fine. All good.” What’s he meant to say? Thanks for the footsie? Your skills were commendable? I was really close to needing a cold shower?

“I was going too fast." Jinhwan rubs his hands down his neck. “I’m sorry, you’re young, I forget.”

Junhwe bristles. “I’m eighteen.”

“ _Eighteen_!” Jinhwan exclaims, eyes widening. “I thought you were nineteen?” 

“Nope,” Junhwe pops the p. “Eighteen. It doesn’t matter, the age of consent is fourteen anyway which— that doesn’t matter either. Because. I’m not. I mean. I would but. There’s nothing to. Consent. Consent to.” 

There’s silence, both him and Jinhwan looking determinedly away from each other. 

“I’m going to go get my iPod,” Jinhwan says to a spot on the wall behind Junhwe. “I’ll meet you outside.” He doesn’t look at Junhwe as he moves to pull on his jacket, shuffling away from the kitchen towards his room.

Junhwe stares at the broken stool on the floor and relates. 

 

 

There’s only four more days until the live show and after a good six hours of practice they still haven’t managed to make the performance look any less awful. Junhwe’s watched enough K-Dramas courtesy of his sister to know that sometimes two people just don’t “click”. There’s no helping it. But the idea that him and Jinhwan don’t have chemistry is a personal insult to Junhwe. He can’t accept it. He’s Koo Junhwe. He can do _anything_. And he _can_ turn his weird crush into even weirder sexual tension if that’s what it takes. 

“Hold on,” he says, grabbing Jinhwan’s arm when he moves to turn the speaker off. “Let’s give it another go?”

Jinhwan smiles bemusedly, patting Junhwe’s hand. “Calm down, more practice won’t do anything now.”

Junhwe tightens his grip. “I can- I can do better.” 

Jinhwan laughs then, not one of his self-depreciating mirthful ones that Junhwe’s become accustomed too, but genuine and a little bewildered. He stands on his tiptoes to push Junhwe’s sweaty bangs away from his face. “We only started dating a day ago,” he says, grinning when Junhwe ducks his head, embarrassed. “Let’s not rush into things, yeah? Come on, I feel like fishcakes, my treat.” 

“But-but,” Junhwe stutters helplessly as Jinhwan begins packing up. “We can’t. We’re still not good enough yet.” Jinhwan purposefully ignores him, humming a short tune under his breath and stuffing his towel into his bag. Junhwe shakes his head, trying to gather himself. This isn’t going to work. He can’t go around whimpering like a child all the time. Not only is it criminally uncool, but it’s never going to make Jinhwan take him seriously. “I don’t want to,” he says resolutely, crossing his arms. 

Jinhwan slings his backpack over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at Junhwe. “You sure?” he asks. Junhwe gives Jinhwan a firm nod, walking past him to turn the speakers back on. “Because sometimes I put out on the first date.” 

 

 

“You know I was joking right?” Jinhwan says, passing Junhwe more fishcake off his plate. Jinhwan hasn’t eaten anything all night, too preoccupied with watching Junhwe and making sure he really didn’t have a concussion. The on-studio nurse Jinhwan forced him to see had insisted Junhwe was fine, but Jinhwan wasn’t taking any chances.

“I know,” Junhwe grumbles, pressing his cheek into his palm. He crams more fishcake into his mouth so he has a reason not to talk. Then again, Jinhwan talking hasn’t proven to be any better for his fortune, so he swallows quickly and thumps his chest to force it down. “I was just taken aback.” 

“I could tell,” Jinhwan frowns, passing Junhwe a glass of water. “That was one hell of a trip.”

Junhwe knows, he’s the one who saw the floor up close and personal after all. He keeps eating, trying to ignore Jinhwan’s steady gaze on him.

“I won’t lie,” Jinhwan says, eyes still trained on Junhwe. “I thought you were kind of an immature kid before,” Junhwe muffles his shamed groan with more food, “but you’re actually really serious about this aren’t you? More serious than I would be at eighteen.” 

At that, Junhwe straightens up. “It’s my dream,” he says instinctively. “I know everyone says that about everything, but I’m for real. It’s my dream. I don’t know what else I’d do with my life.” 

“You’re young,” Jinhwan says, shrugging and folding his legs up on his chair. “You’d figure it out.” 

Junhwe grimaces, he’s heard those words from so many different people, and even though he knows Jinhwan doesn’t mean them condescendingly, somehow having it told as an objective fact feels worse. Trivialising. “I guess so,” Junhwe says, and there must be something in his tone, because Jinhwan looks up sharply. “But I’d be pretty miserable.” 

Jinhwan’s face is contemplative, and Junhwe fidgets under the scrutiny. “I saw your audition video from last year,” he admits.

Junhwe drops his chopsticks. “Oh.” And he can’t help himself, he’s addicted to validation. “What did you think?” 

Jinhwan smiles, takes one of Junhwe’s fishcakes and pops it into his mouth. “You were cute,” he says, winking. “Still are.” 

 

 

Junhwe locks the stall behind him. “Donghyuk,” he whispers into his phone. “He said I was cute—”

“Really? _Really?_ This was the emergency you texted me about?” Junhwe doesn’t say anything, but even the silent nod he offers in the lone bathroom cubicle feels too audacious. Donghyuk’s deep sigh crackles through the speaker. “Well Koo Junhwe, at least _someone_ thinks you are,” is the only response Donghyuk dignifies him with before hanging up. 

 

 

The celebrity judge for the next live show’s been a hot topic issue since he was first announced. Initially, the producers wanted to keep it a secret. Unfortunately, the guy’s company was known to be notorious for media play, so it takes less than a day for three “exclusive” articles to pop up on Naver, toting South Korea’s latest trend Kim Bobby as the special guest judge for Wednesday’s broadcast of “Birth of a K-pop Star K3”. His boss Yang Hyun-suk is friends with one of the PDs, Bobby’s a fan of the show, something something, Junhwe did a quick Ctrl+F of his own name, found zero results on the page, and promptly didn’t care anymore. 

Junhwe’s opinion on Bobby is that he sometimes releases good music and that last year May he’d been the cause of the inside-out pants trend— the reason Junhwe refused to be seen around Donghyuk for a week until he finally wore his goddamn jeans properly. So really, he doesn’t have an opinion Bobby. 

Until he finally meets him that is. 

Him and Jinhwan are walking through the halls of the broadcast station together after finishing their individual interviews, Jinhwan holding his phone up to show Junhwe pictures of his dog back in Jeju. They’re turning a corner when someone runs straight into them, and although it’s not much of an impact, Jinhwan loses his balance and goes stumbling backwards— and Junhwe, in his plight to save him, accidentally ends up elbowing Jinhwan in the chest and sends him sprawling on the floor. He’d feel bad, but at this point he’s not surprised anymore, and neither is Jinhwan if his resigned sigh and the way he calmly picks himself up is any indication. 

“Sorry,” a gravely voice says, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Junhwe knows who it is immediately. He’s seen Bobby a few times around the building, and there’s no mistaking that unique timbre. Junhwe’s picky about who he decides to go starstruck around, so he’s in the middle of doing a quick bow, assuring him that it’s no problem, when Jinhwan replies first.

“It’s all good, I’m in one piece,” he says, and Junhwe knows that voice. It’s purposeful. It’s the voice Jinhwan uses whenever he wants to tease Junhwe and make him blush. Junhwe looks at Bobby, who in his ugly low-rise pants and snapback, gives Jinhwan a blatant up-and-down. Junhwe’s indignation would have more ground if Jinhwan wasn’t doing the same thing back. 

“I’m Kim Jinhwan.” Jinhwan slides his hand out of Junhwe’s grip and holds it out. Junhwe didn’t even realise they were holding hands, since Jinhwan makes him do it all the time now, but he already misses the feeling of Jinhwan’s thin fingers resting against his knuckles. “You’re going to be judging me in three days.” 

Bobby grins and slaps Jinhwan’s palm, holding it tight. “Bobby,” he greets, effortless and confident. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

 

 

Junhwe doesn’t sulk. There’s no good reason to, Jinhwan can like whoever he likes, and Junhwe shouldn’t care. He’s not delusional, he never expected anything to come out of their partnership except for a tenuous friendship at best. After all, if he was in Jinhwan’s shoes would _he_ date himself? Probably. But it’s not Jinhwan’s fault Junhwe is of superior taste. 

So he doesn’t sulk. He just feels shitty about it. 

As it is Junhwe is an open book, every inconvenient feeling he has coloured into his features for the world to see. Jinhwan is nothing short of observant, and so he pauses the song in the middle of practice and turns to Junhwe with a worried frown on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Junhwe replies, shaking his head. “Let’s go again.” 

“It’s time for a break anyway,” Jinhwan says, leaning against the large practice room mirror and sliding down to the floor. He pats the spot next to him, “Come on, I’m not as young as you. I’ve lost my youthful stamina.” 

Junhwe huffs out a laugh but makes his way over to sit next to Jinhwan. “There’s hardly even any choreo involved,” he says. Jinhwan makes a show of looking exhausted, and reaches out a hand to rest on Junhwe’s neck before Junhwe flinches away. Jinhwan’s hand stays suspended in the air for three seconds, before falling slowly in the small space between them.

“Okay,” Jinhwan says. He scoots forward, maneuvering himself so he’s in front of Junhwe, sitting face to face. “Tell me what the problem is.” 

“There’s not a problem,” Junhwe insists, playing with the lid of his water bottle. Jinhwan narrows his eyes at him. “It’s not your problem,” Junhwe amends. 

“Your problem is my problem,” Jinhwan says, pulling the bottle out of Junhwe’s grip and leaving his fingers to fidget out in the open. “So tell me.” 

Junhwe tucks his hands underneath his knees, tries to push himself further into the mirror behind him. “You know we’re not actually dating right?” he says, and regrets it almost immediately afterwards. Jinhwan looks mildly surprised, but otherwise isn’t phased.

“I know,” Jinhwan says, “I just meant that it’s my problem too because if you’re going to be like this on stage everyone’s going to see it.” 

Junhwe feels rightfully reprimanded, like nothing more than a dumb kid. “Of course, sorry.” 

“Wait, is that the problem?” Jinhwan asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“No,” Junhwe states flatly, turning his head to the side. Jinhwan doesn’t buy it, keeps staring at him skeptically, and Junhwe knows the only way he’ll be able to get out of this is through honesty. And the honest answer— that Junhwe is narcissistic and immature and no amount of self-awareness will help him compartmentalise his emotions properly— isn’t an answer Jinhwan deserves. 

“It’s not the problem,” Junhwe says, searching for something vague enough to pass as a half-truth. “I just feel… lost.” 

Jinhwan’s eyes widen into realisation, which is pretty incredible considering Junhwe doesn’t even know what he’s just said. “I’m an idiot,” Jinhwan groans, burying his face into his hands.

“You’re… not,” Junhwe reassures, awkwardly patting Jinhwan on the back. 

Jinhwan shakes his head. “Just because it’s just pretend it doesn’t mean things I say and do don’t matter. Sorry Junhwe, it’s my fault. I went too fast, you’re not wrong for feeling uncomfortable.” He bites his lip and stares at the ground, and Jesus, no one deserves to go through internal conflict over Junhwe being a moron. 

“No no no, that’s not what I meant,” Junhwe backtracks desperately. Jinhwan looks up at him confused, and Junhwe swallows. “You’re fine, I just meant like... Look, I’m not going to cream my pants just because you hold my hand— Oh god, why did I say that.” Junhwe gives up, he lets himself visibly cringe, let's Jinhwan know that even his own body can’t tolerate the shit he ends up blurting out. 

Jinhwan covers his face with his hands and starts shaking. The first thought Junhwe has is that Jinhwan’s crying, until he listens more carefully and realises that what he's hearing is laughter. 

“Has anyone ever told you,” Jinhwan says after collecting himself, twitches of laughter still left on his lips. “That you make them incredibly fond?” 

Junhwe opens and closes his mouth. “I… I make you fond?”

Jinhwan nods. He brings a fist up to his chest, then spreads his fingers out in a blooming motion. “It fills me up.” Junhwe’s heart beats in his throat, almost choking him. “But anyway, I am sorry if I’m too forward or anything. I want to try and make it feel real, but I know it’s weird acting like you’re dating someone you’re not really dating. Especially if it’s for the first time.”

Junhwe shrugs, feeling a lot more relaxed now that the air between them has eased up a little. “I don’t care, I’m not into that whole sentimentality stuff anyway.” 

Jinhwan smirks. “If you manage to keep that mindset into college you’ll have fun,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. 

Junhwe sputters. “N-no, I just mean like, I don’t care about things being special or whatever. Like first kisses and stuff, it just goes to whoever manages to get it.” 

Of course “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?” is what Jinhwan fixates on. 

Junhwe rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. Not this again. “I _have_ ,” he says. Sure it was awful, and it was with this girl who smelt like rancid onions, and he was broke and only did it because his deskmate said she’d pay him. But that’s the thing, it’s just a first kiss. Junhwe will have many better ones to come. Hopefully. “I’m just saying it generally.” 

Jinhwan nods slowly, “Right…” 

A vein in Junhwe’s forehead throbs, and he hates that the only social tool God decided to bestow on him was a rusty defence mechanism, because not even Junhwe would believe the harried “I’m being serious, I have. It wasn’t that big of a deal or anything, who even cares about kissing,” that comes out of his mouth. 

“Junhwe,” Jinhwan says softly, and it’s meant to be comforting, but instead it just aggravates him. No matter what Junhwe says, or how far their relationships progresses, Jinhwan will never think of him as anything more than a broken toy that blushes and makes an asshole of itself whenever you press a button. “It doesn’t matter, it’ll mean more if you wait—”

Junhwe lurches forward. He meets Jinhwan’s mouth mid-sentence and ends up catching a little bit of his teeth. It’s more stilted than a kiss out of a K-drama. Jinhwan makes a small noise and Junhwe pulls back, horrified at himself. “Fuck. Crap. I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry.” 

He’s planning to get away before Jinhwan can fully process what just happened, hopefully saving them both from an excruciating conversation. He barely manages to stand up before Jinhwan grabs the sleeve of his shirt and tugs him down again. 

Jinhwan’s on his knees, one hand on the back of Junhwe’s neck, eyes flickering across Junhwe’s face regarding him carefully. “Whoever you had your first kiss with...” Jinhwan starts, and Junhwe holds his breath. “...Probably didn’t deserve it.” 

Junhwe knows it’s coming, but he could redo this moment twenty times over and never feel prepared for the feeling of Jinhwan crawling into his lap, and pulling Junhwe into a fierce kiss. 

 

 

Junhwe isn’t exactly Mr. Sunshine but even he’s beginning to get a little concerned at how fucking whiny and self-pitying his internal monologue is as of late. It’s not often you become bored of your own thought process, so Junhwe decides to mix it up a bit and focus on the positives for now. Positives like:

1\. Jinhwan is a great kisser. Duh. 

2\. He’s gotten confirmation that he’s a pretty good kisser too. Jinhwan had definitely sounded impressed, especially when Junhwe finally got to do that thing with his tongue he read about in his sister’s Cosmopolitan. Junhwe doesn’t think he’s seen anything hotter than Jinhwan, pupils blown wide, slick red lips telling Junhwe “I wish we got to do this sooner.”

3\. On that note, Junhwe’s spank bank now has material to last him _years_. 

4\. He’s not jealous of Bobby. He wishes he didn’t have this realisation in the middle of making out. And he sure as hell also wishes it wasn’t accompanied by the awareness that what really upset him was the fact Jinhwan would never see him as a real romantic interest; that sucking face in the practice room was probably the best Junhwe was going to get. Having so much of his pride crushed by someone he met just a month ago is sort of pathetic, but it’s less pathetic than having it crushed by a rich and famous celebrity he’s only met once.

5\. He found a 100₩ coin while walking back to the Contestant’s House. If he hadn’t pushed Jinhwan off him and ran away when he did, the coin would’ve been gone. Just one second later and someone would’ve simply taken the coin Junhwe was _destined_ to have. In fact, it would’ve definitely been Bobby, who probably has his coasters made out of 100₩ coins. You only end up with things you were fated for. Junhwe wasn’t fated for Jinhwan; but he was fated for that dirty, discoloured, fucking useless bent coin that he found in that grimy gutter while running away from a guy worth one million times more. 

 

 

Junwhe and Jinhwan haven’t gone through their routine since the incident in the practice room. In fact, they haven’t talked to each other since then either. It doesn’t really matter, they’d already put in twice as much practice as everyone else, and all the video diaries and individual interviews are recorded in one go and scripted anyway, so Junhwe doesn’t have to worry about having to play nice on camera. 

This means it’s backstage during rehearsals that he properly sees Jinhwan again. Junhwe’s slouching in a chair, watching the monitors with half-felt interest when there’s a tug at his collar. When he looks up Jinhwan’s face is right above him, so close Junhwe can make out the individual particles of powder on his face. 

“Hi,” Jinhwan says, giving Junhwe a rueful smile. 

Junhwe is conflicted but settles on a neutral “Hi hyung,” before looking down at the monitors again. Jinhwan pulls up a chair beside him, and Junhwe doesn’t know what else to say. He wishes he didn’t feel angry at Jinhwan — after all, Jinhwan did make it abundantly clear there was nothing more to the situation other than trying to save their performance from disaster. Which reminds Junhwe, they’re meant to be fake breaking up in twelve hours. How poetic. He’s distracted by thinking about how in the world they’re meant to pull off the performance now, and almost misses Jinhwan’s next words. 

“I’m sorry for what I did the other night,” Jinhwan says. “I was in the wrong, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Oh,” Junhwe deflates a little in his seat, he already figured as much. Jinhwan’s always sorry. “It’s fine, I’m the one who… kissed you first. Plus it’s not a big deal”

“Clearly, which is why you ran away—”

“I thought you were sorry,” Junhwe’s chair skids against the floor when he twists himself to face Jinhwan. Jinhwan moves back, startled, and Junhwe lets out a noise of frustration. “Just, you know what— forget it, I only care about getting through this performance. I just- I only…” he trails off, voice softening along with Jinhwan’s face. 

Jinhwan hovers his hands over Junhwe’s cautiously, giving him the chance to pull back. When Junhwe doesn’t, Jinhwan takes them between his own, thumb rubbing smooth circles onto Junhwe’s skin. Neither of them say anything for a while, silent amidst the chaos of rehearsals in the background. 

Jinhwan speaks first. “I’m a big deal to you, aren’t I?” 

Junhwe goes red. “You’re… okay,” he grits out, trying to pull his hand back but Jinhwan only holds onto it tighter. 

It’s a poor lie and Jinhwan knows it. He lifts himself up from his chair to stand in front of Junhwe, leaning over him while pressing their palms together. “You’re a big deal to me too,” he says, and then he bends down, presses his lips against Junhwe’s so softly that it doesn’t feel real. Junhwe closes his eyes. When the warmth near his face disappears, and his arm falls limply against his side, he opens them again. 

Jinhwan’s gone and Junhwe’s brain is going at a mile a minute. He digs through his pocket and pulls out his cellphone, begins composing a new message to Donghyuk starting with _’SOS’_ , before thinking better of it and backspacing. 

_’You’re still doing the mass voting thing for me right? Because I’m going to need it.'_

 

 

Their duet ends up getting a 6 from all three judges and an 8 from Bobby. “You’ve both done better,” Kim Taewon says. “Fantastically mediocre,” Yoon Jongshin tells them. “It was well done, but something about it felt incomplete,” is Boa’s feedback. Bobby gives them both a thumbs up and goes, “I like your vibe.” Junhwe doesn’t know what it means, but it’s the nicest thing he’s heard from the panel so he takes it. 

Considering Junhwe had been completely frazzled the entire performance, stealing glances at Jinhwan every other second and trying to gauge his thoughts, he knows the lukewarm response was generous. But it feels so anticlimatic. Junhwe goes through the most strenuous week of his life and it ends with a _6_. He would’ve preferred a 3, at least that’s memorable. No one ever remembers a 6. Jinhwan takes it harder than Junhwe does though. Is defeated and ready to synthesise all of Junhwe’s disappointment into self-blame, and so for once in his life Junhwe decides to fight against his nature and suck it up. 

He’s waiting in the lobby, fixing his hair in one of the windows, when he sees Jinhwan step out of the elevator. Except he’s not alone. Bobby’s next to him, one arm thrown around Jinhwan’s shoulder, laughing at something that’s probably not even very funny. Junhwe tries to keep his pettiness at bay, for the sake of his own character development and the fact Bobby did score them well, and restrains himself to only glaring at their reflection through the window. 

After Bobby leaves, Jinhwan bounces over to Junhwe. His coat is too large for him, his face almost drowning in the hoodie, and although Junhwe registers that it’s probably Bobby’s coat he’s wearing, Jinhwan looks so cute, and Junhwe is self-actualised now, so he bites his tongue. 

“Hey,” Jinhwan says, pulling the hoodie back to beam at Junhwe. Junhwe wants to kiss him so badly. 

“Hi.” Junhwe reaches out to play with Jinhwan’s hair. “You’re in a much better mood.” 

“I am,” Jinhwan affirms. “I was talking to Bobby and— what’s with that face?” 

Junhwe brings a hand up to his cheeks self consciously. “What face?” 

Jinhwan snickers and grabs Junhwe’s hand, placing a piece of paper in it. Junhwe creases his eyebrows and raises the paper against the light, blanches when he see a phone number and the name ‘Bobby’ scribbled on it. 

“He gave you his number?” Junhwe deadpans. 

“Nope,” Jinhwan chirps. “He gave _you_ his number.”

Junhwe flushes, dropping the paper like it’s on fire. It flutters downwards and Jinhwan reaches out to catch it, putting it back into his pocket. “Is that a joke, because—”

Jinhwan throws his head back and laughs. “Not a joke. He told me he thinks you have a great voice and that you should wear shorts more often, they show off your thighs.” 

Junhwe knew it, he _does_ have great thighs. But also this is ridiculous. “Uh… I’m very flattered but I’m not interested.” 

Jinhwan steps forward and bumps their chests together. “Good,” he says, bending his head back to look at Junhwe. “Because I owe you a real first date.”

**Author's Note:**

> so i started this back in _april_ as a fill for [this prompt](http://sinoshijak.livejournal.com/849.html?thread=40785#t40785). it is now december. like band like stan i guess... anyway, yg sucks but [some things in life are still good.](https://vine.co/v/elBgarX2a5b)


End file.
